


a love like war

by TheEagleGirl



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Also I love them, F/M, gen and irene being disgustingly soft, i hate them, irene in pants!, no spoilers for return of the thief, sometime between KOA and ACOK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEagleGirl/pseuds/TheEagleGirl
Summary: “I would hear stories about the princess of Eddis. Riding horses, learning to fight alongside her cousins. Even when she was queen, she did not have to be wary of her own barons or guards, because she could trust them, and also because she could defend herself. In my mind, at least, she had nothing to be scared of. Not like I had.”~Or, the fic where Gen gives Irene a sword.
Relationships: Attolia | Irene/Eugenides
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59





	a love like war

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely people from the QT discord chat, who wanted to see Irene with a sword. also this is not beta'd because I just wanted to post it before the meds for my wisdom teeth surgery kick in :P

Irene has mentioned—once, and in passing—that she had been envious of Helen as a child. It had been during one of those sleepy, vulnerable moments between the two of them. Eugenides was propped up on his right elbow, with his fingers stroking softly through her hair. She’d murmured it on the threshold between sleep and waking, almost too soft to catch.

“I would hear stories about the princess of Eddis. Riding horses, learning to fight alongside her cousins. Even when she was queen, she did not have to be wary of her own barons or guards, because she could trust them, and also because she could defend herself. In my mind, at least, she had nothing to be scared of. Not like I had.”

If Irene had been fully awake, or realized her husband was truly listening, she may not have been so open. She loves Helen now, and does not like to linger on the resentment she had built up between them when they could have been allies and friends long ago. 

He’d said nothing at the time, just continued to stroke Irene’s hair until she slipped into a sound sleep, a feat only achieved when Eugenides is with her. She wakes once at dawn, when he slips out carefully, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then dozes until Phrestine comes in to wake her.

Truth be told, Irene forgets about the conversation entirely. They are busy, after all—preparing the country for what could be a long, drawn out war. That week alone, she has four meetings with Baron Erondites, who can barely mask his hatred of her, and three more with Susa. She sees her husband at court dinners and in snatches between audiences. When they are finally alone in bed he does not mention what she’d said--they do not always get much talking done, at night.

Despite Eugenides’ best efforts to make people believe he is an incompetent king, he is also busy that week, and so it is only a full seven days later that he intercepts her before breakfast. 

“I have a surprise,” he whispers, just as Phrestine holds out an embroidered dress. “Send your attendants away.”

Irene tries very,  _ very _ hard to not let anything show in her face when she dismisses them from her rooms. If her attendants’ expressions are anything to go by, she’s not quite as subtle as she wishes.

When she turns to face him, Eugenides is rifling through her wardrobe. “Ahh,” he says, satisfied. “I knew these were still here.”

He pulls out her riding pants and a long tunic. The pants are meant to be worn under a gown, but the tunic will fall to her knees, so it will not be too revealing. Irene had worn this same ensemble during the first few weeks of their marriage, when Eugenides had shown her all the passageways hidden throughout the castle.

“Are we riding today?” she asks. “We do have to take a guard if we leave the city.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to give poor Teleus  _ another _ heart attack,” Gen says, grinning. “No, we’re not riding. We aren’t even leaving the castle. Do you need help dressing?”

Irene doesn’t really, but she likes how he watches her pull her sleeping gown off and step into the pants. 

“Which passage are we taking?” she asks, but he shakes his head.

“It’s a surprise,” he tells her. “I don’t want you to know where we’re going.”

Only a little while ago, Irene would never have trusted anyone to take her to an unknown location, even within her own palace. Even now, a spike of anxiousness runs through her, but she stands still and breathes slowly until she can nod at her husband.

For his part, Eugenides gives her the space she needs until she can break down the barriers between them and trust him blindly. She knows that if she really wanted to know, he would tell her where they are going. He would never let harm come to her. Still, there is a difference between the knowing and  _ allowing  _ someone to have such trust. It takes Irene another moment, another breath, before she can move. 

When she is ready, he touches her face softly, and then shoots her a grin, quick as lightning and as devious as the first time she saw him.

“Ready?” he asks.

“I am quivering in anticipation,” she says, dryly.

“I know you are,” Gen replies, tilting his head up for a quick kiss. His lips are gone before Irene can even respond. Oh, how her husband loves to steal his kisses. 

The wood paneled wall behind her desk falls away behind his hand, and then they are in the cool stone passageway. Irene holds the candle while Eugenides takes her through the twists and turns. Once, they get on hands and knees through a crawl space, and she has to extinguish the light. Oddly, the darkness does not scare her as it once did. 

“Almost there,” Gen tells her, his voice floating back to her softly. He always speaks softly in the dark. 

The darkness had been so absolute that when they step out into the light, Irene blinks several times before her eyes can adjust. 

Well. She didn’t expect  _ this. _

She has been to this room before, once. Eugenides had shown it to her, back when he had still practiced his swordplay secretly with Ornon. There are wooden swords lined along the wall, a shield leaned against a bench, and not much else. Along the wall, she sees Costis standing at attention.

For a moment, Irene does not realize why Gen has brought her here. And then, she remembers her sleepy words and understands.

Her heart swells until she remembers they are not alone. She gives Costis a look she  _ hopes _ is warm, and turns to her husband. 

“I will confess I did not expect  _ this _ to be your surprise, Attolis.”

He sticks his tongue out at his title, which is  _ very _ unkingly of him, but he turned away from Costis before he did so, so Irene supposes he’s learned a  _ little _ on how to present himself. “Well, I figured it was time you learned to fight with a sword. Just think of all the ways you can trounce my dear cousin next time she visits!”

Costis’s expression is stunned, when Attolia turns her gaze to him.

“Perhaps I will let Eddis trounce  _ you _ upon her next visit instead,” she returns, and studies the wooden swords. They’re mostly Eddisian short swords, but there are two long Attolian models as well. 

“I fight with a short sword,” Eugenides says, “because longer swords are meant for two-handed use, and Eddisians fight with shorter swords anyways. But Attolians like long swords more, and that’s what you will be using. It’s why Costis is here, though gods know Costis could use the practice as well,” he finishes loudly.

Costis’s face gives nothing away, but Irene can see the red creeping up his neck. 

She folds her hands primly and asks, “What first?”

“First,” Gen says, “you have to learn how to stand.”

He makes Costis show her the position, and then corrects Irene’s stance when she copies it. Eventually, she must do it right because he nods, and steps back. 

“Here,” he pulls out the wooden long sword, and hands it to her. It’s heavier than she expected, but she manages to hold it steady in the same position Costis has it in.

“These are just some basic maneuvers,” Eugenides tells her. “You don’t start out swinging at an opponent right away. You need to build strength first.”

She nods, and watches the tip of the sword wobble. She clenches her hand tighter around the grip.

“Loosen your muscles,” Eugenides corrects immediately. “You’ll pull something if you’re not careful.”

Irene breathes in and tries. Gen’s hand is warm against her back, correcting her form. Suddenly, he pulls away. 

“Costis!” he chides, sounding very much like his own father. “Don’t—”

“Drop the point in first,” Costis finishes, as he adjusts his sword. 

Gen smiles indulgently at the way Costis’s face burns.

They spend much of the lesson like that—Eugenides instructing, Costis demonstrating, and Irene fighting to keep the position and sword steady. She’s barely moving, but she can feel sweat prickle her back and the strain in her muscles. 

“Good,” Eugenides murmurs against her hair when the lesson is over. “That was a good start.”

Costis is blushing, more furiously this time, and Irene takes a moment to enjoy how off-balance he still is, despite having been around them the most of any other guards. 

Her husband is grinning when she turns to face him. “Can you be free this time in two days?” he asks. 

Irene pretends to consider before saying, “Yes.”

“You heard the queen, Costis,” he says. “Two days time.”

Costis nods.

“You are dismissed, Costis,” Irene says suddenly. “Thank you for your time. We will go back the way we came.”

Gen is still grinning after Costis is gone. “Poor Costis,” he says, reaching for the practice sword in her hand. “He’s still terrified of you.”

“He’s not,” she tells him. “He just understands how to behave.”  _ Unlike you _ goes unsaid.

“You like that I don’t behave,” he returns easily. She can’t look away from him, suddenly—the relaxed smile on his face, the hair falling onto his forehead. Irene leans forward and steals a kiss of her own, but this time he deepens it.

Eugenides sighs softly when she pulls away, the breath warm against her lips. She runs her thumb against the scar on his cheek. 

“I liked your surprise,” she admits. “You were listening.”

“I was,” Eugenides says. “And I do like the idea of my wife being able to defend herself, especially with the possibility of war ahead.”

It is more than a possibility, but Irene does not want to ruin the moment. She wants to save this memory, the taste and feel of it. Gen often steals--from her court, even from her sometimes—but he communicates his  _ love  _ with gestures like this, things that seem small but aren’t. He listened to her half-conscious ramble and gave her a way to feel safer. 

“No one will ever believe it,” Irene says, her lips skimming his cheek, “but you are quite romantic when you want to be.”

Gen bursts out a laugh. “And no one will ever believe that their lovely, scary queen only has one thing on her mind.”

Irene blushes, although she’s too old to blush about things like this. Still, she raises a single brow and asks, “How much time do we have before breakfast?”

Eugenides shoots her a calculating look before he says, “It depends on whether we go back to your chambers or mine.”

In the end, her attendants bring breakfast to them.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Phrestine, in the aftermath: you two are ANIMALS
> 
> if you enjoyed this fic, please leave a comment/kudos as they warm my cold heart!


End file.
